


False Reset

by Riona



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Handplates (Undertale), Gen, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 12:43:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19006042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riona/pseuds/Riona
Summary: Set in Zarla'sHandplatesuniverse.Gaster finds himself in the past, before he attached the handplates. Perhaps it's an opportunity to make different choices; perhaps he'll make exactly the same choices again. Perhaps the reset isn't as clean as he first thought.





	False Reset

Dr Gaster pushes himself unsteadily to his feet.

Of late, he’s been having blackouts... he wouldn’t say _on a regular basis_. Every two or three weeks, at most, and only a few seconds at a time. Not enough to interfere with his work, and therefore not enough to cause particular concern.

This one seems to have been a little more severe. He can usually remain standing. And, when he glances at the time on his computer, it appears that several hours have passed.

This could be a problem, if it recurs. 1-S has already begun to notice and comment on the smaller episodes; he’s entirely too clever for his own good. He would no doubt be swift to take advantage if a larger one occurred in a vulnerable moment.

A diet problem, or a sleep problem, perhaps. As much as it galls him to lose further research hours, Gaster will need to take steps to address this.

In the meantime, he should probably feed the subjects.

-

He purchased a large box of energy bars not long ago, but he seems unable to find them. He ends up pouring each of the subjects a plastic bowl of dry cereal: something he often fell back on when they were younger.

He prefers not to think of when they were younger.

He enters the room with their cell.

Something is wrong.

2-P comes eagerly towards the beams on seeing him, smiling, without apparent hesitation or fear. A new strategy, perhaps? Has he finally concluded that pleading has no effect; does he think acting unafraid to see him will somehow deter Gaster from the things he has to do?

It’s a moment later that Gaster registers, with a jolt to his spine, the larger problem here. He manages not to drop the bowls, sets them quickly down on the floor.

“Subject Two, show me your hand!”

2-P glances at 1-S, then back at Gaster. He looks puzzled. Again, not afraid; why not afraid?

“ _Show me_.”

Hesitantly, 2-P extends his left hand between the bars.

“You know very well I mean the other hand,” Gaster says. “I’m in no mood to be patient.”

2-P holds out his right hand.

Gaster looks sharply over at 1-S. “And you?”

1-S holds both of his hands up, more shrug than compliance. “What’s up with you?”

It’s the same for both of them. The plates are gone.

“How did you get them off?” Gaster demands, seizing 2-P’s hand to inspect it (2-P gasps; 1-S tenses). “You know very well that was a stupid thing to do. If you explain how you managed it, perhaps I’ll be lenient.” He needs to know the weakness in his design, he needs to be sure this can’t happen again—

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” 2-P exclaims. “What did we do? Did we do something wrong?”

He actually does sound confused. Taking acting lessons from 1-S, evidently. “Don’t insult my intelligence; you certainly didn’t do this in your sleep.”

“I didn’t insult your intelligence! You’re really smart!”

There are no holes in the bone where the screws were; they must have healed it. He drops 2-P’s hand – he’s been touching it too long for his liking anyway – and presses his own hands to his temples, fingers curling into his eyesockets in frustration.

He’ll have to drill the plates on again.

He has the strength, the resolve, the _determination_ to do what must be done. It’s not as if he hasn’t done worse. But drilling the plates on... he’d thought that was over. He’d prefer not to be thrown back into that psychological space, that moment he irrevocably broke their trust.

Not that what he’d _prefer_ has ever truly mattered.

“Where are the plates?” he asks, resigned, dropping his hands from his face.

“When’s the last time you gave us food on plates?” 1-S asks.

“Hilarious,” Gaster says, dryly. “You’ve forced us to go over old ground I’m sure we’d all have preferred not to retread. I hope you’re pleased with yourselves.”

He turns and stalks out; evidently he’ll need to check the security footage if he wants any real answers. It seems as if some sort of punishment should be in order, but having the plates reattached will probably be punishment enough.

-

Years’ worth of security footage is missing.

“No,” Gaster whispers desperately, checking folder after folder, backup after backup, “no, no—”

It’s not just the security footage. It’s horrifying, impossible. All his research, _everything_ since he started experimenting on the subjects in earnest—

Gone. All gone.

Did 1-S do this, somehow, while Gaster was unconscious? How would that be possible? He has the intelligence, perhaps, but why would he remove the plates, somehow escape the cell, erase the data, and then shut himself _back in_ rather than escaping to the outside world?

Why would he not do Gaster any harm? At 2-P’s insistence?

There are too many questions for this hypothesis to be plausible. If the subjects aren’t responsible, though, what is? A glitch? Or did Gaster himself do something terrible, in the time he can’t remember?

So much wasted time, so many lines he’s crossed with nothing to show for it...

The date on his computer is wrong, he notices; it’s a date shortly before he first applied the plates. Perhaps that would lend support to the glitch hypothesis.

He checks his phone for an accurate date and time, so he can adjust his computer clock.

His phone shows the same date.

He checks his messages.

It’s exactly the same thing. Every communication since he attached the handplates, wiped without a trace.

-

He finds the handplates. They are on his workbench. How could the subjects possibly have put them here? Why would they do that?

They look brand new, untouched.

Was his blackout more serious than he first realised? Perhaps he didn’t merely pass out; perhaps he lost time, perhaps he can’t remember his own actions. Perhaps the plates were damaged or destroyed, probably during an experiment, and Gaster has somehow lost his memory of creating these replacements.

He glances at the date on his phone.

Or is it possible...?

He’s done extensive research (research with 1-S, research that’s now been _lost_ ) on the possible existence of alternate timelines. In theory, it should be possible for a being from one timeline to move to another, or to return to an earlier point and take different actions, splitting off a new universe.

Is that what’s happened here? How?

And... the thought is chilling, but does that mean the subjects don’t yet know what Gaster is, what he’s capable of?

-

He calls Dr Alphys and asks her for the date. She seems confused, but she gives him the same answer as his various electronic devices.

He returns to check on the subjects.

2-P is kneeling by the beams, holding his detached left arm in his right hand, trying to use it to pull the bowls of cereal towards the cell. Gaster had set the bowls down and forgotten about them.

Gaster sighs, then nudges the bowls within 2-P’s reach. 2-P seizes them with a “Thank you!” and offers one to 1-S.

The subjects _do_ , now that Gaster is paying attention, look slightly younger than he remembers them. Fewer scars.

A timeline reset? His research suggests it’s not something a person could do themselves, under normal circumstances; a soul from another plane would usually need to be involved. And the fact that Gaster remembers the previous timeline – and Gaster _alone_ , as far as he can tell; there’s no mention of this on Undernet – suggests that that soul has anchored itself to him somehow.

Is someone watching him? He doesn’t like the thought.

-

He writes up as much of his research as he can from memory. It takes several days, but he does abruptly seem to have been granted more time.

He’ll need to reattach the handplates soon, of course. It’s... disconcerting, being viewed without fear by the test subjects. They’ve asked a couple of times whether they can be let out of their cell to watch him work; he’d almost forgotten that he used to let them do that. He needs to make their situation clear to them.

He might as well finish the writing first, though, before it all escapes his mind.

-

It’s unproductive to think about blank slates. There is no point in being granted a blank slate if one will only have to make the same marks upon it. They are still trapped underground; Asgore is still suffering; Gaster is still the only one who can find a solution. There’s no need to repeat tests that originally yielded nothing of value, and he should be able to avoid the business with 1-S’s eye, but some things are necessary.

It’s absurd that he should have qualms.

He knows a great deal about the theory of LOVE. Over time, harming others builds up a strength, a resistance to the empathy and revulsion that makes such acts difficult.

He has already drilled the plates on once. There is absolutely no reason it shouldn’t be easier a second time.

“I’m – I’m scared,” 2-P says, faltering, strapped down to the table. He’s been breathing too quickly since he came in and set eyes on the plate, although there’s no reason this 2-P should know of its significance. Did the original react in that way? It’s hard to remember, and in any case Gaster prefers to avoid thinking back to that day.

Gaster picks up the drill. 2-P’s eyes fix on it, sockets wide.

Gaster is...

He...

He’s shaking too badly to operate the drill properly. He could probably _manage_ to attach the plate, if clumsily; he might slip and cause some damage, but it would be nothing 2-P’s HP couldn’t absorb. But what if he finds himself in the same state when attaching the plate to 1-S? A slip of the drill would kill him.

And there seems little point in attaching the plate to one subject but not the other. This will have to wait.

He sets down the drill, and breathes for a moment, and then unbuckles the straps holding 2-P down.

“O-oh, did you change your mind?” 2-P asks, cautiously sitting up on the table. “Did... did I ruin your important work? I’m sorry, I can try to—”

“Stop,” Gaster says. “You have nothing to do with this. You have no power over my actions. I’ve simply made a decision.”

“What...” 2-P fidgets. “What were you going to do?”

“It’s none of your concern.”

“Because... because if you wanted that metal thing on my hand... you could tie it on, right? You could tie it, you don’t have to...”

Of course 2-P managed to deduce his intention. He may not be the brightest of test subjects, but Gaster has hardly been subtle.

“You’d remove it,” Gaster says.

“No!” 2-P exclaims. “It’s for your work, right? I want to help!”

“And do you imagine Subject One would be so obliging?”

“I’d tell him,” 2-P says. “I’d tell him he needs to keep it on, so you don’t...” He glances at the drill and quickly looks away again. “So you don’t use that.”

Gaster looks at him.

“But, but you wouldn’t _really_ use that, right?” 2-P asks, a little desperately. “I know you wouldn’t, I know you...” He’s rubbing his right hand with his left, as if it itches.

Tying the handplates on could suffice as... a stopgap measure. He’ll need to secure them more permanently, in case of escape. But, honestly, if the subjects escape the lab, it’s already too late; the plates are more a deterrent than anything else.

“I am prepared to trial your idea,” Gaster says.

2-P claps his hands together, puffing up with pride. “Yes! I knew it was a good idea! I know you don’t want to hurt anyone!”

-

1-S takes one look at the plate in Gaster’s hand and retreats into the far corner of the cell. Gaster can almost hear him hissing.

Again, this isn’t a reaction Gaster recalls from the first time around. They seem wary of the plates before they’ve even been attached.

“Can you explain that reaction to me?” Gaster asks, out of curiosity.

1-S shakes his head, still looking at the plate. “Just don’t like it.”

“It’s okay,” 2-P says. “He’s just going to tie it onto your hand. It doesn’t hurt!”

1-S doesn’t look convinced.

Gaster sighs. Passes 1-S’s plate to 2-P, along with some gauze. “Perhaps it’d be simpler if you tied it. Make sure it’s secure.”

He deactivates the beams and carries 2-P into the cell with blue magic. They shouldn’t have any trauma associated with blue magic at this point, but both 2-P and 1-S seem to flinch.

What, exactly, is happening here?

There’s no doubt that he’s at an earlier point in the timeline; it’s been days with nothing to contradict it. If he asks strangers for the date, or to recount recent events, they give answers consistent with his conclusion. Dr Alphys has seen _Mew Mew Kissy Cutie 2_ only recently and still considers it acceptable; it’ll be another two rewatches before she truly starts to loathe it.

So why do the subjects _almost_ seem to recall events from the original timeline? Why do they react badly to blue magic and the sight of the plates?

(1-S is checking the plate on 2-P’s hand, frowning, asking repeatedly for reassurance that he hasn’t been hurt.)

Perhaps, like Gaster, they can remember exactly what happened; perhaps they’re trying to conceal that fact. They... share aspects with him, after all. But he doubts it. 2-P has little capacity for deception. 1-S would be unlikely to give himself away by reacting so strongly to the plate.

It’s possible the walls between universes are thinner than he originally imagined.

No such thing as a blank slate, after all.

-

“What’s this for?” 1-S asks, wary. “That’s the eye laser, right?”

“And how would you know that?” Gaster asks.

1-S frowns. “Just... looks like an eye laser. Anyone could tell.”

It’s clear that it bothers him as much at it bothers Gaster, the impulses and knowledge he can’t explain. Perhaps that means he’ll be willing to comply with the experiment.

Not that non-compliance can’t be overcome. But Gaster might as well take advantage of willing volunteers while he has them.

“I’m trying to establish why you and 2-P have started reacting unusually to certain things,” Gaster says. “Blue magic, for example.” He grips 1-S’s soul briefly with blue magic, in theory to illustrate what blue magic is; in actual fact, it’s perhaps more so he can see the way 1-S’s shoulders tense and his fists clench. “That’s a recent development, isn’t it?”

1-S nods. “Yeah. I mean, bein’ moved around always bugged me.” (Has Gaster used the phrase _bug me_ around them before? Certainly not intentionally. But they do pester him a lot; he supposes it must have slipped out.) “But now it... yeah, it feels bad.”

Strange, to have 1-S talk to him with anything short of open hostility. He wonders how long that will last.

“I think it may be related to your sudden ability to identify equipment I haven’t... introduced you to,” Gaster says. “I was hoping you might comply with a little experiment to find the source. I’ll share my findings with you, if you behave.” It’ll probably be simple enough to find some instance of misbehaviour that justifies withholding them.

1-S looks almost tempted for a moment, but then he frowns. Points at the laser setup. “This ‘experiment’ involve that?”

“It shouldn’t hurt.” In this strange, tentative situation where the test subjects _almost_ seem to have had the... the things they’ve endured undone, Gaster finds himself shamefully reluctant to do them harm.

He’ll have to, of course, in the end. But, as long as he has ideas for non-painful experiments, there’s no reason not to conduct those first.

“I hate the eye laser,” 1-S mutters.

“Again,” Gaster says, “how do you know that, if you don’t have any experience with it?”

1-S raises his brow ridge. “Does anyone _like_ lasers in their eyes?”

“Are you going to assist with the experiment?” Gaster asks.

1-S folds his arms. Looks at him for a moment. “Or what?”

Gaster pauses. “Or are you going to refuse, of course?”

“Yeah, that’s not what I’m asking,” 1-S says. “My bro’s the one you get to do the physical tests. Not me.”

“Because of your health problem,” Gaster says. “I assure you, this is safe.”

“You’d still have asked him first if you could’ve,” 1-S says. “You didn’t. Which means you need me.”

It’s true. From all the many tests undone, it’s clear that 1-S has the stronger potential to perceive other universes. Perhaps even more so now, with both his eyes intact.

“So what are you gonna do if I say no?” 1-S asks. “You gonna make me do it?”

Perhaps he should appeal to 2-P. It’s less likely to be a success, but it’s a way to maintain his current cautiously positive, or at least not outright negative, relationship with the subjects. Perhaps...

Perhaps he should throw aside this ridiculous reluctance and _do the things he needs to do_.

“Should I take this as your refusal?” Gaster asks.

“Nah, I’m just asking to make you uncomfortable,” 1-S says. “Let’s do this.”

-

Gaster allows 1-S to climb into the chair and strap himself in. It feels strange, a part of him is itching to give himself more control, but he has to keep reminding himself that this is a _voluntary_ experiment.

“I’m going to hold you still with blue magic,” Gaster says. “This is just to ensure the laser doesn’t hit anything it’s not supposed to.”

“Ugh,” 1-S says. “Fine.”

Gaster takes hold of 1-S’s soul with one hand, operating his computer with the other.

The laser activates. 1-S hisses between his teeth.

“It’s best if you don’t speak during this,” Gaster says, checking the readouts, “but raise a hand if you perceive anything unusual.”

There it is, in numbers on his screen: what Gaster _suspects_ is the barrier between perception of this reality and perception of others, much thinner in 1-S than in most monsters. If he just makes a small adjustment to the positioning of the laser...

Two things happen simultaneously, so close together he can’t tell whether one followed the other.

He loses his grip on 1-S’s soul.

1-S starts screaming.

Gaster shuts the laser off at once, his mind full of _side of his skull blown off HP dropping can’t heal no no no no **no** —_

But it’s not the same, it’s not the same, he needs to stop shaking. 1-S is in the chair, alive and... not _fine_ , perhaps, he’s breathing fast, he’s as shaky as Gaster himself, but he appears to be unhurt.

“What happened?” Gaster asks.

1-S doesn’t answer. He’s looking around the room; he seems confused.

Gaster looks at the readout. A success? It suddenly looks like 1-S is processing much more information than before. But the computer can’t tell him exactly _what_ information 1-S has gained from other universes.

“What did you see?” Gaster asks, as 1-S unbuckles himself from the chair.

1-S walks straight past him.

“Ex _cuse_ me,” Gaster says, trying to grab him with blue magic.

It doesn’t work.

What?

There’s no time to worry about this. He pursues 1-S out of the room.

-

“Papyrus!” 1-S exclaims, on seeing 2-P.

 _Papyrus?_ Gaster has never told them the name of 2-P’s font. Information from another timeline?

2-P looks bewildered. “Papyrus?”

“Uh, no, that’s you,” 1-S says. He’s checking the beams, checking the panel next to them. “Bad news: I don’t remember how to get you out of there. How did you even get in?”

“That’s quite enough of that,” Gaster says. He deactivates the beams and grabs Sans by the arm, intending to steer him bodily into the cell, as his blue magic appears to be faulty.

His hand passes straight through Sans’s arm. Solid bone, and it feels like there’s nothing there but air.

Gaster freezes.

2-P takes a step back, staring at them, sockets wide. “Um, what just happened?”

1-S shrugs. “Looks like the beams turned off. I’m not gonna question it. C’mon.”

Gaster stares at his hands. Solid. He touches the wall. Solid. He touches 1-S.

Nothing.

“I mean – why can’t he touch you?” 2-P asks. He sounds like he’s begging. Gaster is far too dignified to beg for answers himself, but a panicked part of him is glad someone else is doing so on his behalf.

“Who?” 1-S asks.

“Him! He can’t touch you!”

“Not... really an answer, bro.”

“ _Him!_ ” 2-P says.

“I’m gonna need a name at some point,” 1-S says.

“What’s a name?” 2-P asks. “Just – him! There!”

He’s pointing. 1-S turns and looks straight through Gaster.

2-P can still see him, evidently. Gaster is certainly _here_. So why is he suddenly unable to interact with 1-S?

1-S gained the ability to perceive different universes, different timelines, and as a result he _lost_ the ability to perceive Gaster?

Gaster has a terrible feeling about this.

“Can you stay here for a few minutes?” he asks. “I need a moment to think. 2-P, could you tell your brother?”

“He’s asking if we can stay here,” 2-P says. “And he called us brothers again!”

“Had a bunch of important nothing to be doing,” 1-S says, with a shrug, “but sure, I guess I can hang out with you and your invisible friend. For now, at least. Just... get out of the cage bit.”

Gaster realises, _slightly_ too late, that he should have turned the beams back on. 2-P has already obeyed 1-S’s instruction and trotted out of the cell, glancing nervously over at Gaster.

He sighs.

The experiment cannot continue, of course. If Gaster cannot touch 1-S, either physically or magically, he has no way to keep 1-S confined to the lab. If he attempts to keep 2-P here, 1-S will no doubt ask for outside help retrieving his ‘brother’, and Gaster will be exposed.

So he’ll need to release them both, with a quiet request to 2-P not to mention any of this. At least they don’t know his name. At least, in this universe, nobody can find him guilty of torture.

(1-S has taken 2-P’s hand, is inspecting the plate again, frowning. 1-S can touch 2-P. Why not Gaster? What makes Gaster less real to him?)

It’s over. He suddenly feels exhausted. Some part of him, some despicably weak part that’s a traitor to Asgore and the Underground, is relieved.

“Um, excuse me?” 2-P asks, anxiously.

Gaster glances over at him. “Yes?”

2-P puts a hand on Gaster’s arm, hesitant. Gaster flinches away out of habit.

But 2-P’s hand was there. Gaster could _feel_ it.

“That was kind of... scary,” 2-P says, with a nervous laugh. “I thought maybe you weren’t real.”

For a moment, Gaster had thought the same thing. He’s still not sure what this development means. He’d prefer not to think about it.

“I’m going to let you and 1-S go outside,” he says.

2-P claps his hands together in front of his mouth. “Oh! Really? Really?”

This is a bad idea. But he isn’t exactly awash in options.

“Wait,” 2-P says, his smile losing some of its brightness. “You said you’re going to _let_ us. Are you not coming with us?”

“It’s likely you won’t see me again,” Gaster says.

“No!” 2-P exclaims.

1-S gives him a sharp look. “What’s wrong?”

“I have a few... requests, before you leave,” Gaster says. “I probably don’t have any right to make them. But if you could refrain from mentioning—”

2-P throws his arms around him.

Gaster freezes up.

His instinct is to push 2-P away, firmly. But...

But he can feel this. An assurance that, in this moment, at least, he exists. Someone can touch him.

He doesn’t hug 2-P back. But he puts a hand on 2-P’s shoulder, at least, as 2-P presses his face into his lab coat. It’s probably safe to let this happen, if the project is ruined.

(It isn’t safe. Because the memory of all he’s done is beginning to eat at him, through his carefully constructed defences.)

“This is pretty weird to watch,” 1-S says.


End file.
